And Death Shall Have No Dominion
by AWildeRomantic
Summary: Months after Kerrigor's defeat, the new king and Abhorsen strive to repair the damages done to the Old Kingdom. Between political upheaval, countless dead, and a necromancer set on ending the abhorsen's line forever, neither Touchstone or Sabriel is quite sure what they've gotten themselves into.


Chapter 1: Prayers to Broken Stone

"_Here the stone images  
Are raised, here they receive  
The supplication of a dead man's hand  
Under the twinkle of a fading star..."_

_- The Hollow Men _T.S. Eliot

* * *

Cold steel pressed against Sabriel's throat. Fighting the urge to flinch, she wet her lips and said coolly, "You wouldn't really kill an eighteen year old girl, would you?"

"You aren't just an eighteen year old girl, Abhorsen," said the man at the other end of the blade. A moment later he lowered the weapon and smiled. "You are a woman with a sword in her hand. I daresay most people would consider that quite a threat."

"I do not feel like much of a threat," Sabriel said, wrinkling her nose. She watched Damed deftly twirl one of his small, twin blades. "And I do not feel like I'm getting any better!"

"I'd say you are, m'lady," Damed said. He jerked his head to indicate the guards running drills at the other end of the practice yard. "You could beat any of that lot without blinking. I just so happen to be the best swordsman in the city, it's an unfair comparison really." He grinned at her and winked.

Sabriel did not respond. She was staring up at Palace Hill, clearly distracted, the tip of her sword brushing the short grass at their feet. Damed frowned a little and slid his own sword back into its scabbard. He had a great deal of respect for the Abhorsen, young as she was, coupled with a brotherly sort of impulse to look after her. And like a good older brother figure, he was well aware of _who_ currently occupied Sabriel's thoughts.

Sure enough, Sabriel let out a soft sigh and said absently, "I should be down there helping him."

"How? You've said it yourself, m'lady, this is something the king has to do on his own," Damed said, resting his hands on the pommels of his twin swords. Like Touchstone, he favored the traditional armament of the old palace guard. "Royal blood and all that."

"It's just so much for one man," Sabriel said. She lifted her free hand to brush a few strands of hair back from her face. "And most of it's trial and error, even the Clayr aren't really sure how to repair the great stones. You've seen him, Damed, every day he's more and more strained, and you're right, there _isn't_ much I can do to help, especially with me constantly being called off to deal with the dead." For a brief moment she looked like she might cry, but she gave herself a little shake and her expression became almost angry. "It hardly seems fair! Touchstone never asked for this. He never expected to be king, he never…"

"Does the walker choose the path…?" Damed murmured, letting the rest of the familiar phrase hang unfinished in the afternoon air.

Sabriel hung her head, knowing he was right. A faint breeze picked up, carrying with it a burst of laughter from the people working atop the hill, stone by stone rebuilding the royal palace that had been burned down twenty years ago. Spring had come early to Belisaere that year. Snow still lingered in crevices and deep shadows, but the winds coming in off the bay were warm, and promised even warmer days to come. One of the clayr who had come to help with the palace said she thought it was a good sign, then winked at Sabriel in a way that suggested she _knew_ it was a good sign.

Further down in the city, bells began to ring to indicate midday. Sabriel started slightly and looked at Damed. They had been at it for four hoursat least, which meant Touchstone had been working even longer.

"I think I'll go check on…on the king," Sabriel said, finally re-sheathing her sword. "He's probably lost track of time, and he really shouldn't overdo it."

Damed bowed deeply in ascent. As he straightened, he drew out a scrap of fabric to wipe the sweat from his face. "I shall gladly wait for you both, m'lady."

Sabriel nodded, sensing his reluctance to actually accompany her into the reservoir. She couldn't really blame him. Damed might not be quite as good a charter mage as he was a soldier, but the presence of the broken stones was enough to make anyone falter. She also knew that Damed's loyalty to Touchstone would mean that should she ask him to, he _would_ go down into that cloying darkness with her, which is mostly why she _didn't _ask. (Another more selfish part of her knew it would be one of the few chances she'd get to be completely alone with Touchstone.)

Seeing her hesitation, Damed dropped all formality for a moment and squeezed her shoulder. "He will appreciate you going to him."

* * *

Once down in the semi darkness of the reservoir Sabriel began to regret not requesting Damed's presence. She tried to tell herself that she was being silly; there was nothing down here but two broken stones, four unbroken ones, and most importantly, Touchstone. But still, the perversion of the broken stones was enough to set her on edge even after only a moment of exposure. She couldn't imagine spending hours down here, day after day, as Touchstone did.

As the barge brought her closer to the center of the reservoir and the looming charter stones, Sabriel's chest began to ache, and then throb with pain. She winced and pressed a hand just under breastbone where, only a couple months before, Kerrigor had run her through with her own sword. All that remained of the injury were two scars, one in front and one along her spine, but whenever she came down to the reservoir the wound began to hurt as though it had been reopened.

Passing between two of the unbroken stones, Sabriel touched one briefly, feeling the faint, dulled flow of the Charter through it. Then, ahead of her charter marks flared into life and she could see Touchstone standing on the other barge, arms raised as he fought to keep his spell going and directed at the broken stone before him.

He didn't notice when Sabriel's barge bumped against his, so focused was he on the spell. Sabriel could sense him wavering though, and so she carefully climbed over to him, resting her hands on his waist, and her chin momentarily on his shoulder as she lent him what strength she could to complete the spell. Some uncountable time later the final mark left Touchstone's fingers, plunging the reservoir into darkness once again.

"Sabriel?" he breathed softly, half turning before crumpling to his knees. She knelt with him, wrapping her arms around his slightly trembling body. Touchstone leaned into her gratefully. "That time already?"

"It's past noon," Sabriel said. Her eyes were readjusting to the darkness again, and she lifted one hand to brush a few damp curls off Touchstone's forehead. There was a discernable streak of grey at his temple that she did not remember being there before. "You should stop for the day. Damed's waiting for us."

"Just…need a moment," Touchstone let his head come to rest in the crook of her neck and shoulder.

"Is there anything I can do?" Sabriel asked after a moment. "See to your hand, at least, or –" She paused when Touchstone struggled into a sitting position, grinning at her a little.

"I wouldn't say no to a kiss."

Sabriel raised her eyebrows at him.

"It's a bit fitting, isn't it?" Touchstone said, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. "This is where you first kissed me."

"Much different circumstances," Sabriel said but she smiled as she did, leaning a little closer to him.

As his palm was still bleeding a little, Touchstone put just the tips of his fingers under her chin, gently drawing her in to a tender kiss that Sabriel was loath to break. "You're leaving again tomorrow, aren't you?" Touchstone said, still close enough that his lips brushed hers as he spoke.

"Your people depend on me for safety," Sabriel said. She sat back and looked down at her hands.

"_Our_ people," Touchstone corrected. He seemed to be weighing options for a moment before he began, "Sabriel, I –"

"When I get back," she interrupted, holding up her hand. "Please, Touchstone. We can talk about it when I get back." Her heart seemed to be pounding in the back of her throat all of a sudden, and Sabriel leaned over to grab the long pole to start punting them back to the exit.

* * *

Back out in the sunlight they found Damed talking with a young man neither recognized. He had a completely ethereal look to him, pale blue eyes and blonde hair, but deep, deep bronze skin, made to look even darker compared to the pale blue robes he wore.

"Ah, your Highness, lady Abhorsen," Damed said as they walked over. "Allow me to introduce Rhaen, he's just arrived from the glacier."

"You're a clayr!" Sabriel said in surprise. "I thought they were all women."

"Most are, Abhorsen," Rhaen said. "But every so often a male is born, not that we are any different from our sisters."

"I imagine if a male and female Clayr bore a child, it would be incredibly powerful with the Sight," Touchstone said, also momentarily awestruck.

Rhaen laughed, showing his impossibly white, straight teeth. "Past experience tells us no, surprisingly. Not that my particular, er, inclinations would allow further exploration…"

"Oh. _Oh!_" Touchstone looked a little embarrassed. "Of course. Forgive me, I did not mean to… What brings you to Belisaere?"

"My skills lie in the healing arts," Rhaen said, as the four of them started towards the main road. "The watch Saw me helping…helping you, sire."

As Touchstone murmured his thanks, Sabriel frowned a little. She had caught Rhaen's slight hesitation, and the flick of his blue eyes in her direction. She had figured out quite early on that there was generally a great deal the Clayr did not reveal to others, but she couldn't shake the feeling that Rhaen was specifically concealing something to do with his purpose there.

Not that having another Clayr around could really hurt, she thought as she watched Rhaen take Touchstone's hand and with only a few murmured Charter marks reduce the fresh gash on the king's palm to an angry pink welt. Touchstone flexed his hand, raising his eyebrows. Then he smiled at Sabriel and offered his arm to her as the four of them started back to the main road.

The walk took only ten minutes, but Touchstone was thoroughly out of breath by the time they reached the manse that served as a temporary base of operations. He was also paler than he had been, brow sweaty once more. Keeping a tight hold of his arm, Sabriel hoped silently that they might be able to avoid any of the usual crowd of councilors or lords and ladies who came seeking a word with the king.

As Damed held the door open for them, however, she realized they wouldn't be so lucky. She first met the gaze of po-faced but kind Jall Oren, and tried to convey that Touchstone needed to rest, but all Jall could do was look at her apologetically as another man strode over to them. Andel Ryemon was another of Touchstone's small council members, but where Jall Oren was dark skinned and soft featured, Andel was pasty and hawk like in a rather intimidating manner.

He had also taken an inexplicable dislike to Sabriel.

Touchstone managed to draw himself up and take a deep breath. "Andel, what've you got for me?"

"Just a few things that need your approval, your highness," Andel said, handing over a stack of papers. "And the lord of the Kien holdfast is arriving this evening to discuss possible trade exchanges, I have the kitchens preparing a small formal dinner for the occasion. Also have you finished the letter to the Ancelstierran moot?"

"Hmm…no, not yet, Sabriel was going to do that tonight…" Touchstone said a bit distractedly as he thumbed through the papers he'd been handed.

Andel glanced at Sabriel, then back at Touchstone. "It would be better coming from you, sire."

"I don't know the first thing about Ancelstierre," Touchstone said. He tucked the papers under his arm and looked at Andel. "I'm not even sure what the moot _is_ exactly. Sabriel's knowledge of the politics down there has already been invaluable to me, I will continue to avail myself of that."

"I'm sure the Abhorsen has other things she should be seeing to," Andel replied, his tone just shy of disrespectful.

If Touchstone didn't catch the deliberate phrasing – _should be_ – Sabriel did. Unconsciously assuming one of Miss Prionte's poses of authority, she squared her shoulders and tilted her chin, pleased that she was nearly at a height with the slightly hunched Andel.

"And I'm sure the Abhorsen is perfectly capable of speaking for herself," she said testily. "I do not depart for Ganel until tomorrow morning, and am fully packed. It will be no trouble for me to aid the king."

Andel held her gaze for a moment, until Jall cleared his throat and suggested they all move to the council chamber, where they could at least sit. Touchstone and Jall lead the way, discussing one of the trade agreements that had come up. Sabriel attempted to walk with Damed just behind the king, but Andel fell into step with her first.

"Do not bite off more than you can chew, my lady," he murmured out of the corner of his mouth. "You're liable to choke on it. There's a reason the Abhorsen isn't traditionally part of the small council."

"I believe what you mean is 'officially,'" Sabriel said.

Andel scoffed, "Semantics."

Sabriel stopped, clasping her hands in front of her as she turned to face him. "Do you question the king's prerogative to decide who he seeks advice from?"

"You are young, Abhorsen. I question whether you can handle as much as you say you can," Andel replied, not losing a beat. "Though your father was much the same way… "

"Walk away from me," Sabriel snapped, loud enough that the others stopped and looked back. She continued glaring at Andel, "Before I make you."

Silence fell over the corridor. Andel glanced towards Touchstone, but when the king made no move to contradict Sabriel, Andel turned on heel and strode back the way he came. Sabriel remained stiffly where she stood, still clutching her right wrist in her left hand.

Jall's hearty laugh was a surprising break to the silence, and he kept laughing until he had tears in his eyes.

"What?" Sabriel asked, spinning around to face the remaining three men. Her brow remained furrowed, even as her anger began to cool. She stiffened a little. "He was being insufferably rude, he deserved to be called out."

"Aye," Jall said, dabbing at his eyes. "But it's the way you said it, Abhorsen. That is not how a young lady calls someone out, that is how a _queen_ demands respect."

* * *

Silence met the councilor's observation, and Touchstone found himself looking very intently at Sabriel. She, in turn, seemed to be quite actively avoiding his gaze. After a moment she muttered something about needing a bath and swept past them, not so much as hesitating when he touched her arm as she passed.

"Our Abhorsen has quite the sugar and ice temperament, as my mum used to say," Damed said softly.

Jall nodded in agreement, his expression sobering. "I very much doubt that Andel will question her again."

"She's the Abhorsen," Touchstone said, temper simmering only because he was too exhausted and sore to truly be angry. "And she almost single handedly defeated Kerrigor, I'm not sure what else people expect her to have to do to prove herself."

In a very fatherly sort of way, Damed put his hand on Touchstone's shoulder. "The Abhorsen has always been a symbol of hope to the common person. The people of Belisaere already love her, how could they not? There will always be men like Andel Ryemon who try to cause ripples…"

"And we have already seen how easily the Abhorsen puts them in their place," Jall added. "I wouldn't worry about it, Sire."

Touchstone took a long, steadying breath and nodded. He realized he quite envied what Damed no doubt meant as the ice part of Sabriel's personality: her ability to make calmness seem frightening, that look she'd fixed Andel with…He couldn't seem to muster the same inherent air of command no matter how hard he tried. He shook his head. "Apparently the schools in Ancelstierre are doing _something_ right if they produce women like that."

"See, sire, with force like that behind you, we'll make a decent king out of you yet," Jall said, continuing on through the open doors of the council chamber.

Rolling his eyes, Touchstone let out an amused snort. He hesitated however, and glanced at the stairs, the ones that led up to the living quarters, the ones Sabriel had hurried up. He wondered for a moment if he shouldn't go after her and make sure she wasn't too upset.

"You agree with Jall," Damed said, not having left his place at Touchstone's side. "With what he said about the Abhorsen."

"Sorry?"

His bodyguard gave him a pointed look. "About her ladyship being a natural queen."

Touchstone scowled. He had made it quite clear from the beginning that he did not want to police what Damed said, part of that coming from his memory of being a guard and how frustrating it was to constantly watch ones mouth. This, however, was a little too personal for his liking. "I believe you're overstepping your bounds, Damed."

"Ah, see, now that's how a king speaks to his bodyguard," Damed said, never dropping the coy little half smile he wore. "And on that note, forgive me, it shan't happen again."

* * *

It took Sabriel nearly three weeks to deal with all the problems plaguing the small coastal town of Ganel. At the end of that time, however, she had banished the handful of dead from the area, helped the local Charter mage to repair the town's stone, and did all that without sustaining any injury worse than a bruised tailbone. (Which taught her to check that she wasn't standing in a puddle when going into Death.)

Despite the success of the trip, Sabriel returned to the Abhorsen's house feeling exhausted, stretched thin and most of all lonely. She'd sent a message hawk to Belisaere almost four days ago, but Touchstone apparently hadn't felt the need to reply.

Arriving at the house, she first took a long bath, then ate a small supper in the kitchen, something that seemed to baffle the two sendings who kept hovering over her shoulder the whole time. Feeling clean and full if nothing else, Sabriel wandered into the reading room and collapsed on a far too comfortable sofa before the fireplace.

She had just draped an arm over her eyes and begun to doze off when a voice purred in her ear, "Welcome home, Mistress."

"Oh-!" Sabriel gasped and sat up, blinking in surprise. "Mogget? You...you're awake."

"Ranna has a fickle grasp," Mogget said, making a great show of stretching before he jumped up on the couch beside her. "Besides, I thought I should greet you properly."

"I'm only staying the night," Sabriel said. "I just need to check a few books. I've been away from Belisaere for nearly three weeks now, I really should get back in case Touchstone needs me."

Mogget bared his teeth in a leering grin. "Oh I'm sure his highness does need you. Desperately."

"Mogget!" Sabriel glared at him.

"I'm only saying," Mogget said, "It is the longest you two've been apart since you found him, yes? I wouldn't be surprised if he had grown a bit too attached."

Sabriel frowned, toying with the material of her bathrobe. "Belisaere is starting to feel more like home than this place does."

"They do say home is where your heart is," Mogget said, sounding thoroughly disgusted. "Oh, but Mistress, I can tell already that you're falling prey to the delusion that you Abhorsens hold more political sway than you actually do."

Knowing very well that she would regret asking, Sabriel said flatly, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Silly girl, _stupid_ girl," Mogget drawled. "You don't actually think they'll let you marry him, do you? You may think the Old Kingdom is some sort of fairy tale, but it's not. The king will marry some noble lady from Estwael, or a Lord's daughter, or even a princess from beyond our borders, that is always what happens. Of course they'll most likely hate each other, or he'll find her dreadfully boring…"

"Shut up."

"Why? If that happens, your…_friendship_ will be all the more important to his highness. I've seen it happen a dozen times before." Mogget's eyes were fixed on her, the same look he tended to give a fish being served up to him. When Sabriel continued to look down at her hands, he added, "Am I being too delicate? Then let me be frank: You will not be the first Abhorsen to spread her legs for the king, or find herself pregnant with his bast –"

Sabriel grabbed Mogget by the scruff and threw him off the couch. He landed on his feet with a yowl, then looked at her and hissed. A second later the little bell on his collar gave a soft ring, and Mogget curled up where he had landed, falling back into his deep, deep slumber.

Resisting the urge to give the cat a good hard kick as she stood, Sabriel strode out of the reading room and across the hall to her bedroom. Ranna's ring had only encouraged the fatigue already wrapping around her, even if she was still fuming.

The sendings had lit a fire in her bedroom fireplace as well, and the oil lamp on the bedside table. Sabriel also noticed that the window was ajar, which baffled her for a moment until she saw the message hawk perched on the back of the chair.

"Message for Abhorsen!" it squawked. "Message for Abhorsen."

"Yes, yes," Sabriel yawned, sitting on the end of the bed and drawing her knees up to her chest. "I'm Abhorsen. What is it?"

The hawk ruffled its feathers, a faint glow of Charter marks appearing in its beak before repeating the message it bore. In Sabriel's tired state, the sound of Touchstone's voice coming from a tiny bird was rather comical, and she stifled a giggle.

"_Sabriel, I am so glad to hear you're alright. It's been positively mad here. I finished one of the stones yesterday, and more Clayr arrived to help with the palace. They've completed the throne room, the kitchens, and some of the living quarters, it's all quite lovely. And overwhelming. Sometimes I'm still sure that I'm in over my head…" – _a long pause – _"Anyway. I miss you terribly. Come home soon."_

Sabriel blinked. _Home_. Apparently she wasn't the only one who thought Belisaere was more hers than the house was. Sending the hawk off to the rookery, Sabriel closed the window and put out the lamp before shedding her robe and slipping into bed.

* * *

A pre-dawn blush was creeping into the sky when Mogget abruptly woke, then made his way down the stairs and out onto the grounds that surrounded the Abhorsen's House. He crossed the yard to a tree growing beside the wall, scaled it, then started padding along the top of the wall. He finally came to a stop on the western edge.

Facing into the last tendrils of night being chased away by the sun rising behind him, Mogget began to sniff at the air, his little pink nose twitching. "The stones are being repaired," he said, sounding almost smug. "If you do not hurry the gates will close in your face…well, if you had a face."

An unnatural wind, hot and putrid rose suddenly, ruffling the little cat's fur. Mogget just laughed, then responded to some statement heard only by him. "I can't decide which I would like to see more, my little mistress banishing you beyond the ninth gate, or you finishing her and ending the line of Abhorsens forever." He chuckled and began padding back along the top of the wall, murmuring mostly to himself, "Wouldn't that be nice for the both of us…"


End file.
